


Stockings

by ParadeTheUndead



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Short n sweet, also im a lil drunk so forgive any editing mistakes here, can be shippy if you like but can also not, haha nice, poppin my ao3 cherry w a roadrat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadeTheUndead/pseuds/ParadeTheUndead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat tries to put on a pair of stockings. It works about as well as you'd imagine. </p>
<p>Roadhog is Not Impressed, but he is amused, at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(thanks to m'boy thedeadbutcher for the idea while i was in the midst of a mind numbing 15hr car ride)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stockings

It'd been a real pisser getting the damn stockings on. Especially trying to get them over the scrap and sharp edges of his mechanical leg. The other leg was easier, but the fine mesh kept irritating the hair there, pulling and pushing it out of place everywhere making it hellishly itchy. He had to stop every five seconds to scratch, pinch at, and adjust the material, which made the ordeal of getting the other one on even worse. 

A not so quiet, irritated screech bubbles out of his throat and he gives a final, angry tug to where the fabric had caught on one of the gears of his peg leg. It tears a bit but doesn't budge. Junkrat flops over dramatically, groaning loudly and hitting the floor a bit too hard. He giggles at the pain and, briefly forgetting that his legs are tied up, tries to roll over. There's more tearing and with a start the junker sits back up and looks down at the damage. 

"Aw hell," he mutters, lifting both his legs into the air as he once again flops onto his back. "Motherfuck." He grunts, starting a staring contest with the bullshit fucking shitty stockings. His hands twitch with barely contained violence as his mood plummets and he wrestles with the urge to tear up the last of the delicate material and free himself from the henious contraption. 

The rat is so caught up in trying to set the things alight with the heat of his glare that he doesn't hear Roadhog clomping up to investigate the loud scrabbling. An impressive feat, considering the size of the hog, but the big guy could be pretty sneaky when he wanted to be. (or maybe it just seemed like that because Junkrat's hearing was shot to hell) 

He doesn't hear the footsteps, but the loud, wheezy cough-laughter coming from his bodyguard sure as hell catches his attention. At the sight of his Best Friend his good mood quickly returns, and Junkrat reaches his arms up for assistance. 

"Oi, oi! help me up ya big lug!" 

Roadhog grunts a question, a little too amused to be serious. His usual garbled voice is made worse through the laughter and it's a miracle he could even be understood. Junkrat grins, wide and manic, as Roadhog lifts him straight up into the air by his arms. His tangled legs flail a bit and the fabric tears (yet again; it's barely hanging on by now), but Junkrat couldn't care less. 

"Whaddya think, mate? I look right good, yah?" He giggles, pants, giggles again and Roadhog shakes his head. His laughter is subsiding, but rat is still being jostled a bit by the thundering shakes of the giants shoulders. 

"Stupid." The hog grunts, but there's a fondness in his tone that sends Junkrat further into a jittery, giggly fit. His legs flail again and this time it finally sends the last of the torn up stocking flying away. The left one is still holding on, but the right one has been completely shredded. 

" 'S get you out." Hog grunts again, and Junkrat waggles his wild brows at the man. 

"Sure, sure, mate, whateva ya'like." 

Junkrat thinks he's being suave, and Roadhog chokes down another fit of laughter, feeling very much like an underpaid babysitter.


End file.
